What I set out to do, was to paddle across the lake at my work in twilight, to try my hand at preparing a fire in the dark. I figured I'd find a site to camp in the last few moments of light, and then have to work in the dark for the rest of the evening, only with light that I could provide myself.
Problem is, like most things, not everything went according to plan.
I didn't get off work until a solid hour later than I expected, so getting into kit was a rushed affair. I wound up running out of daylight before I ever left the car. But, having spent some time among the dwarves and inheriting their stubbornness, I went for it anyway.
Cue less-than-intelligent decision number one: Paddling in pitch black.
There was a tiny sliver of a moon last night, but it didn't come up over the treeline and help me out until well after I no longer needed it. The stars were nice and bright, but didn't shed enough light to really be usable, apart from helping me separate the silhouettes of the treetops from the open sky. The main hazards of this problem are running aground at an angle that could capsize the boat, as well as hitting a partially submerged tree or branch which could cause the same problem.
The solution? For starters, I know the hazards on this lake like the back of my hand. Secondly, GO SLOW. Take it easy. You're not in a hurry. On a night like this, the orcs can't see you from shore any more than you can see them. Go slow enough that colliding with anything will cause no more than a bump, and no loss in stability.
Still onshore:
On the water. That's all I could see, dimly...and that's a flash photo. It was worse.
There wasn't anything to see, so the rest of the journey across the water was undocumented in photos. Unless you want to look at a rectangle of black, which I could arrange.
Once I beached, which I did very carefully, my first concern was making sure that my overly-curious mutt didn't wander off in the pitch black. He kinda...blends in. So I walked around, seeing the dim shapes of trees, looking for one a little way back from the bank I could tie him off to for a few. Got that taken care of, and then turned around to find myself next to a long-since uprooted tree. It had been knocked over by the wind, and had ripped up its main root base, leaving a wall of dirt and roots over a shallow depression.
A heat reflector, and an all-natural firepit.
Huzzah.
So the next problem is, finding kindling without grabbing stinging nettles or poison ivy. I shuffled my feet around until I heard the swishing of shin-high grass. Grabbed a handful, and snagged some leaves that were light and dry. Made my way back to the pit, and got to work. I cleared the pit of leaves so I didn't start an inferno, and then laid my precious cargo in the center and broke off a few roots from the dirt wall before me.
We had a thunderstorm the day before last, so everything was a little damp. Several frustrated minutes later, I managed to get a quick short blaze going. I raced around the root base furiously, breaking off any and every brittle piece of dead root I could find, feeding them in to get it going. A deft application of a decent sized fistful of leaves got the flames to leap up, which shed some light on the situation for a moment.
With that brief increase in visibility, I was able to find my first real prize, a knee-thick forked log about four feet long that was leaning dry against a tree, and pretty thoroughly rotten. It would light up real easily, and buy me some time.
I broke it easily into sections by stomping on it (this is important...you don't want to be swinging an axe around in the dark) and got the first few pieces going. With that, I swept out further, skimming the still-black ground for thumb-sized sticks and things I could break easily into usable lengths. I started thinking of these as “rescue†twigs; I wanted a stockpile of them ready-to-hand so that, in the middle of the night, I woke up cold and the fire was down to tiny coals, I wouldn’t have to stumble around in the black to “rescue†the fire safely. So I built up a stockpile of these, occasionally finding some larger, more fuel-appropriate pieces.
With every trip, I put a few bits in the fire to keep building up that bed of coals so that when I felt comfortable with my stockpile, I’d have a good cooking fire. In this situation, you’re not racing against time…you’ve already run out. You’re racing against your fire; you need to return before your embers burn out, with enough to keep it going AND enough to prevent you stumbling around in the darkness again while half-awake.
So here’s camp, at this point, ready for dinner.
I spoiled myself and brought some raw meat to roast. Not the most appropriate thing for a ranger to be carrying, generally, but heck…everyone deserves a quality meal every once in awhile. Besides…a ranger who just left from Rivendell might’ve been sent with one last nice, non-dried beef steak for a final good meal before the hard rations set in.
So I did. I roasted up a steak. I also helped myself to some fire-melted white cheese I brought along, and a pair of apples from my market-wallet. Then, biding my time for a bit, I whittled by the fire and kept it going. This would also be a good time to have a pipe, etc. Eventually, the dog and I turned in for the night.
Someone needed a little bit of persuading to share:
*Curtains close. End Act I.*
Around 5:45 am, the sky stated to turn gray. The stars had faded, and I found myself mildly awake. It was still dark, but the sky was clearly delineated against the trees in the distance.
A handful of pre-stacked sticks and some blowing on a few coals I found buried in the ash from last night’s fire got things blazing again.
I only wore my linen shirt on top last night, and used my wool top layer as a pillow. Now, it was a bit chilly, and some light fog was rolling in, so I took the “pillowâ€, which had warmed from being slept on, and put it on. The fire crackling again, Shadow and I sat for a bit, warming up and enjoying the lovely fog leading slowly into a solid sunrise.
Once the light was substantial enough, I broke camp and paddled out. It’s amazing how much detail one can go into describing how to deal with the dark. Now that it’s light out, I don’t think anything more needs to be said. Everything went smoothly, and it was a lovely morning, containing none of the concern, care, or urgency of the night before. You wouldn’t know it was the same place.
My camp was hidden behind the treeline at the very back of the lake in this image, just to the right from center:
Cheers!
-Greg
Glad to see it's holding up for you. Looks like you had a great learning experience there. My hat's off to you.
